


Leo With Kids; or Five Times Cris Didn't Know Where Leo Was & One Time He Did

by hpdm4ever, MessiFangirl (hpdm4ever)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Argentina National Team, Babies, Children, FC Barcelona, First Date, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Real Madrid CF, Some Wags and Children Exist, Some do not, Translation into Vietnamese Available, cressiweek2k17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-01-07 09:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12230322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/hpdm4ever, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/pseuds/MessiFangirl
Summary: Cristiano is amused, clapping his friend on the arm before turning to survey the VIP area. He starts to do a loop around the room, smiling as he spots his mother and Ricky, followed by James and Neymar with their heads close together, and then a few of the other Barcelona contingent. As he comes across each new group, he stops for a chat, enjoying that everyone seems to be having a good time.But after he gets back to Jorge, he realizes that he never once saw Messi.And he even looked behind some of the plants.Just to be thorough.Now translated into Vietnamese byaliciajhsonWattpad.com.





	1. Cristiano Ronaldo Jr.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yulin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yulin/gifts), [stillgold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillgold/gifts).



> Written for Cressi Week 2017 :) 
> 
> \--for the sake of the story, Antonella and Georgina do not exist, and neither do Thiago and Mateo Messi, nor Eva and Mateo Ronaldo.
> 
> \--complete, but I'll be posting chapters one at a time

"They want to take pictures of you and Messi," Jorge says, looking down at his phone. He's only half paying attention to Cristiano, always working instead of taking a break and enjoying the gala. "Have you seen him?" Jorge asks, distracted. “He’s probably hiding behind a plant, or something.”

Cristiano shakes his head, but Jorge doesn't see it. “Pictures, huh? Well, as you know, we're normally attached at the hip... But somehow I've misplaced him. Whatever shall I do?" Cristiano says, drawing it out so that Jorge looks up and makes a face at him. 

Cristiano smiles, not really annoyed.

He's in too good of a mood to be annoyed.

"I guess I could take a look around," Cristiano says, looking at his watch. It's not that late yet, so they'll be here for a while longer. He could take a chance and hope he comes across Messi during that time, but since the other man didn't win an award, Messi might actually leave early--and then not having taken the pictures would become some big thing.

Jorge makes some encouraging noise and goes back to texting. 

Cristiano is amused, clapping his friend on the arm before turning to survey the VIP area. He starts to do a loop around the room, smiling as he spots his mother and Ricky, followed by James and Neymar with their heads close together, and then a few of the other Barcelona contingent. As he comes across each new group, he stops for a chat, enjoying that everyone seems to be having a good time.

But after he gets back to Jorge, he realizes that he never once saw Messi. 

And he even looked behind some of the plants.

Just to be thorough.

He shrugs, grabbing a bottle of water from the bar. He can say that he tried, at least, if anyone asks. He takes a sip of water, watching his reflection do the same in the mirror above the counter. His earrings are glinting in the dim light and his hair is still neatly coiffed, while his suit is perfectly tailored. 

He looks good.

Or at least, that's what his mother told him as they left their suite earlier. Cristiano remembers smiling in response, but truthfully he wishes he had someone besides his mother to tell him that. He flicks his eyes away from the mirror and surveys the room again, having a sudden longing for his son.

Truthfully, having Junior around is the best way to make him forget his troubles.

Except, Cristiano doesn't see him. He frowns, stepping away from the bar to head out of the main ballroom. He’s not overly concerned, knowing that Junior won’t leave the building without him, and that there’s plenty of security around to keep things under control. He remembers that there were a couple of small lounges off to the side, along with the bathrooms, and Cristiano began ducking his head into each one in an attempt to find his son. One room he nearly skips because of the darkness, but then his ears perk up as he hears some familiar giggling.

Despite the main light being off, he can still see a dark little head bouncing up and down across the room. For a second his son's face is illuminated by the tablet he goes with everywhere before the brightness goes down, and Cristiano smiles to see Junior's obvious joy at whatever silly mobile game he's playing. Cristiano almost leaves him be, but then Junior's giggling starts again and his son squeaks, "No, no, no! You have to jump when the barrels come towards you!"

And Cristiano realizes his son is not alone.

"I'm trying!" Junior's friend protests, the soft slurry voice sharpening in frustration as a second dark head shakes back and forth. "You're throwing them too fast!" The both of them start laughing then, squabbling as they fight about whose fault it is that they're losing, and Cristiano furrows his brow as he figures out exactly whose voice that is.

Cristiano fumbles for the light switch, flicking it once he finds it.

Junior and Lionel Messi blink over at him, eyes trying to adjust. Messi squints, pulling on his ear and looking guilty when he sees Cristiano standing there. Junior just smiles and waves. "Pai!" he says excitedly, "Pai, Leo is really bad at this game."

Cristiano tries to hide his grin. "Oh?" he asks, watching as Messi clearly fights the urge to argue with a child about a video game. As Junior nods and launches into some story about Messi having used up almost all of their lives, Cristiano laughs. "Well, he's better at other things, Junior," he says, trying to be polite. "We can't all be good at everything, now can we?" he asks as he walks over to them. 

Messi's lips are curling up in a smile now too, the other man running a hand through his hair and looking away self-consciously when he sees Cristiano staring at him.

"How long have you both been in here?" Cristiano asks curiously, suddenly noticing a growing blush on Messi's face.

Junior isn't aware of Messi's embarrassment and begins to babble about how they've been playing for ages, and first Messi watched, and then they restarted on double player, and isn't it great that they didn't have to be out there in the ballroom?

Cristiano finally laughs. "Well, I'm sorry to steal your partner from you, but Messi needs to take some pictures." He ruffles his son's hair at his obvious disappointment. "I'm sure that you two can play again another time," he offers, seeing Junior's lower lip beginning to pout. He doesn't want to force Messi to play again, so he keeps it generic, doesn't specify a day or time.

But Messi surprises him. "The next time I see you, Junior,” he says softly, ignoring Cristiano's raised eyebrows. "If you want," Messi adds, standing up and brushing his suit off. The fabric is already wrinkled and beyond saving, but Messi gives it a good try anyway.

Junior's pout disappears. "And you'll practice, Leo? You always have to practice,“ he says sternly, mimicking Cristiano in a way that he never thought was possible. But Messi only nods seriously, reaching out to shake Junior's hand.

Cristiano tries to say that it isn't necessary to cater to Junior's wants, but the look in Junior's eyes borders on hero worship, so he decides to keep it to himself.

As the men walk back to the ballroom, Cristiano leans in close to whisper, "It's not a big deal if you don't want to play again. I'm sure Junior will forget." He pauses, waiting for a few people to pass, and then leans in again. "Thank you for entertaining him for a bit. I'm sure you didn't really want to spend your night like that." His hand is on Messi's back, guiding him through the doorway, trying to avoid being stopped by anyone.

Messi ducks his head, blush still on his cheeks. "He's a good kid," is all he says. But he doesn't pull away from Cristiano and instead leans in to whisper back. "I liked spending time with him, Cristiano.”

Cristiano feels a flicker of something strange go through him at that, but before he can reply, the photographers are upon them. 

*****

Cristiano sees Messi a few times after that, including once at a gala with Junior. And despite Cristiano trying to assure him that it isn’t necessary to hold up his end of the deal, Messi still proceeds to say he wanted to play games with Junior. 

And Junior had looked delighted, so who was Cristiano to interfere?

It had actually been quite the sight--Lionel Messi cutting through the crowd of Real Madrid players and plopping down next to Junior on the couch. "Two player?" Messi had mumbled to Junior, ignoring the looks he'd gotten from those around them. Cristiano had been tempted to go and chase a few of his teammates away, especially since Messi had looked slightly uncomfortable at the attention when Dani and Gareth had laughed. But soon, Messi and Junior were involved in the game, and neither of them looked up again for the rest of the night.

"Leo is still really bad," Junior whispers before Cristiano put him to bed that night. "I told him to practice more for next time." He puts an arm around his teddy bear and cuddles into his pillow.

"Messi has better things to do than practice those dumb games, but it was nice of him to play with you," Cristiano says, pulling the covers up over his son. He smooths a hand over Junior's hair. "I hope you thanked him."

Junior yawned. "I did," he protests, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. Then he opens them again. "He said you should call him Leo," he says, blinking up at Cristiano. "He says that you've known each other for a long time and that it is okay."

Cristiano laughs. "What? Were you talking about me?" He sits down on the side of the bed, carefully avoiding his son’s legs under the blankets. "What else did he say?" He finds that he’s oddly curious in a way that he never thought he would be.

Junior squints at him. "I don't remember," he says. Then he closes his eyes like he’s going to sleep. “Goodnight, Pai.”

Cristiano raises an eyebrow but lets it slide. “Goodnight, Junior,” he replies, kissing his son on the forehead. He exits the room and turns off the light, pausing in the doorway to watch his son for a moment before closing the door completely. He wants to ask more questions, but it’s clear that now is not the time.

Still, after he’s in his own bed, the conversation echoes in his head. And he falls asleep wondering what it is that Lionel Messi thinks of him.


	2. Benjamín Agüero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s nearly all the way to the door when he has to step over someone’s outstretched legs. Cristiano frowns, ready to tear into whoever it is that thinks sitting like that is a good idea. Granted, they’re short legs. 
> 
> Short legs in terrible jean shorts… 
> 
> But still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of my other Cressi Week fics are ready so here's chapter 2!

Cristiano drags his feet through the hallways, spikes clattering against the floor. He should have gone straight back to the locker room when he had a chance, but he allowed himself to be caught by too many fans. He lost track of how many pictures he took, but eventually, he realized he needed to go get changed.

It’s not like he could blame them for their excitement—beating Manchester City in the Champions League was a big deal. Frankly, they were lucky Bale’s shot deflected enough to go in. And even luckier that City didn’t manage to score an away goal. But still, Cristiano is in a good mood. Advancing to the finals is a reason to celebrate. 

He speeds through the clogged hallway, trying to avoid the suits and numerous wives and kids waiting for the players. Junior is with his grandmother, so Cristiano doesn’t have to worry about him waiting, thankfully. But he spares a few smiles for Clarissa and Enzo who are leaning against the walls and bouncing with excitement while they wait for Marcelo. There are several City people there though, which makes it rather difficult to be too boisterous. 

Especially when they’re depressed about getting kicked out of the tournament once again.

He’s nearly all the way to the door when he has to step over someone’s outstretched legs. Cristiano frowns, ready to tear into whoever it is that thinks sitting like that is a good idea. Granted, they’re short legs. 

Short legs in terrible jean shorts… 

But still. 

God forbid Cristiano had tripped and broken something that kept him off the pitch for months. Wouldn’t that be a fucking nightmare? So he’s completely ready to start yelling at the person with the short legs, except his words dry up in his throat.

Because it’s not just anyone. 

It’s Lionel Messi.

Well, it’s not *just* Messi either. It’s Messi with a crying little boy on his lap. The kid, who’s wearing a Manchester City jersey with KUN AGÜERO written across the back, has his head buried in Messi’s neck, thin arms desperately clinging to Messi while he sobs. Messi hasn’t even noticed Cristiano and instead is just hugging the boy, trying to comfort him.

How there aren’t a million pictures being taken of them, Cristiano will never know.

“It’s alright,” Messi is saying as Cristiano squats down in front of them. “Come on, now, you’re alright.” His hand is moving up and down the boy’s back, gently trying to soothe him, and he’s kissing the top of the boy’s head. “Daddy wouldn’t want you to cry like this, hmm? He knew it would be a hard game. We have to put on a brave face for him when he comes out, okay?”

Cristiano clears his throat and finally catches Messi’s eye. “Everything alright?” he asks, wondering if there’s something he can do to help. It seems stupid, but maybe he can get a few of the guys to sign a shirt or a ball? Of course, if the kid’s a City fan… He bites his lip and looks at the little boy. “Benjamín, right?” he asks, pretty sure now that’s Agüero’s son.

Messi smiles and shakes his head. “Benjamín,” he confirms. “Just a little upset about the game,” he then explains, combing through some of Benjamín’s dark strands. “Being back in Madrid probably doesn’t help,” he murmurs, and Cristiano nods remembering Agüero’s years at Atlético. “Overly tired, too,” Messi adds knowingly. “He wouldn’t nap earlier.”

Cristiano’s knees are starting to hurt, so after a second he shifts over and sits against the wall next to Messi. He hasn’t seen Messi in awhile and it should be awkward, but somehow conversation comes to him easily. “You were watching him earlier?” he asks. “Didn’t peg you as a babysitter. Does Agüero pay you by the hour? How much?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows. “As I recall, you and Junior seemed to get along pretty well. I could keep you in mind for the next time I go out and my mother’s busy. El clásico, for instance.”

Messi looks wide-eyed at Cristiano for a moment, caught off guard by Cristiano’s joking manner, but then he grins, dimples appearing out of nowhere. He looks down at the boy snuggling into his embrace. “I don’t charge family. So Kun doesn’t owe me anything,” he says, kissing Benjamín’s head lightly before he turns back to Cristiano. “You, though?” he asks appraisingly. “If you want to pay me to play video games with Junior, I’m all for it. Just not during el clásico,” he adds, sticking out his tongue like he’s eight years old. “Good try, though.”

Cristiano laughs, especially when Messi blushes like he did when they’d talked at the Gala.

Like… 

“You could come by whenever you’re in Madrid, you know,” Cristiano says impulsively. “Not during the games, obviously, but after, or if you’re here for business or whatever…” He’s not sure what’s come over him, and even now he can see a few confused faces staring at them from the waiting crowd as if they’ve heard his ludicrous offer. Then again, maybe it’s just because he and Messi are sitting together in the hallway and aren’t at each other’s throats. “Just,” Cristiano quirks his lips and then looks down at Benjamín’s head so that he doesn’t have to meet Messi’s astounded gaze, “if you want. To hang out. Or talk. It could be nice.”

Messi hums, but he looks intrigued. “People would talk,” he says quietly like he’s feeling Cristiano out. “We wouldn’t be able to keep—,” he stops and then starts again. “It might look bad for you.” His fingers slowly move through Benjamín’s hair again, though the boy’s stopped crying and now might be falling asleep.

Cristiano rolls his eyes. “Might look bad for *you*,” he retorts, thunking his head back against the wall. “You ever think about that? What your precious fans might say about their saintly Messi visiting the enemy?” He looks at Messi again, trying to decide if he’s entirely off base here. “But, if I’m okay with what they say… And you’re okay with what they say…” He trails off, having no idea exactly how to approach this.

“You’re not my enemy. You never were,” Messi says softly, shifting his arms around Benjamín. “And I wish you’d call me Leo.” His dark eyes are nothing but kind, and they’re flickering with something that Cristiano can’t name. “Junior calls me Leo. And you should too. Especially if…”

Cristiano takes a deep breath, his heart starting to beat faster. He feels like he does when he’s approaching the keeper one on one, like he’s dodged the last few defenders and is about to power a shot into the corner. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt like this off the pitch. 

It was back… back before Junior. 

Cristiano closes his eyes. 

There’s something building between him and Messi, but Cristiano’s been burned before, and he can’t be any more forward than he already has. There’s too much on the line. He likes his life the way it is, and if he’s going to upheave that, it has to be worth it. But he thinks that Messi of all people might be one of the few actually worth it. “Leo, then,” Cristiano says, liking the sound of it on his tongue.

He can’t lose it here.

But whatever Leo’s going to say is lost in a throat clearing above them. Cristiano opens his eyes and looks up.

“He asleep?” Sergio Agüero says, freshly showered and wearing Manchester City sweats. “Hope he didn’t fuss much.” He looks between Leo and Cristiano with confusion. “Am I interrupting?”

Cristiano wants to say, ‘YES,’ but he doesn’t.

“We were just talking,” Leo answers calmly. “We’re friends, you know,” he tells Agüero, starting to move Benjamín to one arm so that he can use the other and push off the ground. Cristiano jumps to help him, giving Leo a hand up so he doesn’t fall. When Agüero stares at them dubiously, Leo looks at Cristiano. “Right?” 

Cristiano smiles. He's loving the look on Agüero's face right now. "Yes," he agrees easily.

*****

Leo brings a pizza the first time he shows up at Cristiano's house.

"Did you think I wouldn't have food?" Cris asks, holding open the door and staring down at the large white box. He'd been surprised to get a text from Leo a few hours earlier, talking about being in Madrid for some Adidas thing, but he hadn't missed a beat and stressed that his invitation was always open.

It’s not really a date if they stay in.

Is it?

Leo scrunches up his face. It makes him look younger, more like a silly teenager than a grown man. "Well, Junior likes pizza," he says, tilting his head to the side and looking somewhat embarrassed. "He told me it was his favorite."

Cristiano moves aside and gestures for Leo to come in. "I see," he says, trying not to sulk. "Just here to play with him again, I suppose. Well, he's not here. He's out with my mother, and probably won't be back until late."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Cristiano becomes aware of the fact that Leo might take that the wrong way. He might think that Cristiano is deliberately talking about his empty house, and how they won't be disturbed... in case anything... happens.

But it’s not a date, so.

But Leo just nods. "More for us then," he says, yawning slightly. And then, "The more you eat, the better. Just means more for you to run off at training." He smiles at Cristiano and kicks off his white flip-flops next to the door, carefully nudging them with his toes into next to a pair of Cristiano's expensive sandals. He’s wearing another horrid pair of jean shorts, this time with a plain black t-shirt that somehow clashes though Cristiano can’t put his finger on why.

Cristiano doesn’t hold back his grin. "Won't matter," he teases, taking the pizza from Leo, mouth watering as the smell wafts under his nose. He cracks open the box to look inside. It’s plain—his favorite, though he's sure Leo was just trying to be cautious with his choice. “Looks great. And a few pieces won't bother me." He lets the box fall shut and then casually rucks up his shirt, exposing his flat stomach. "Don't you think?"

Leo's eyes flick down, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks. "We'll see," he says nonchalantly.

Cristiano’s grin grows wider.

It’s definitely a date.


	3. Sergio Ramos Jr.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cristiano stops mid-sip, nearly choking and spilling half of his water down his shirt. “Wait, what?”
> 
> Gerard is unfazed. “Well, Milan is pretty good traveling now, but Sasha always has to have a window seat. Plus his traveling toys, and his traveling clothes, and I have no idea how he got to be such a little diva—,” Gerard prattles on until Cristiano interrupts him.
> 
> “No, no, idiot. I mean, Leo’s here? In Madrid?” Cristiano asks, half trying not to sound like an idiot himself. He reaches for a napkin and dabs at his wet shirt. It might be a lost cause, though. “He didn’t tell me he was coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cressi week is over, but this fic isn't :) Hope you like the next part!

Sergio hugs Cristiano when he comes in, but then there's a crash from somewhere in the distance and his host races off cursing. 

Cristiano just shrugs. 

He's not sure what possessed Sergio to want to have such a big party at his house--or how he convinced Pilar to let him--but Cristiano makes a mental note to never do it himself. As he scans the room, he can already see new stains (beer maybe?) on Sergio's precious sofa along with definite ones (what is that? Cheetos dust?) on the previously white rug in front of the fireplace.

A ton of his teammates are scattered throughout the house, dancing and drinking and eating, and Cristiano finds himself going from room to room just to try to say hi to everybody. There are also a lot of Sergio’s friends, guys from the national team and all that. He’s surprised to see few kids running around too, dodging through the adults with more agility than Cristiano expected. Then again, they are footballers' children, so maybe some sort of athletic ability should be expected. Of course, as soon as that thought passes through his head, Cristiano feels something bump against his leg. 

He looks down to see Sergio's youngest now sitting on the floor looking stunned. Marco raises his head to peer up him, lip trembling as tears fill his eyes, and Cristiano knows he only has seconds to act. "Hey, little man!” Cristiano says, plucking the boy off the ground to set him on his hip. "Are you having a fun time at the party?"

Marco's lip wobbles a bit, but he smiles when Cristiano smiles. “Yes!” 

Cristiano laughs, shifting the toddler higher. If it were his party, Junior would be in bed by now, but he’s not about to take charge of somebody else’s kid. “That’s great! Do you want to go back to chasing your brother?” he guesses, when he sees the boy’s head looking over his shoulder at the way Sergio Jr. is heading for the hallway with the playroom. 

Marco’s eyes go back to Cristiano’s like he’s thinking it over. Then he nods vigorously. “Yes!” he says again, starting to wiggle. “Down!”

“Alright, alright,” Cristiano says, dropping the boy back on the ground, tousling the soft hair for a second before the little feet get back to running. He watches the boy dodge a few pairs of legs, narrowly colliding with one right before the door before recovering and disappearing from sight. He has to laugh because the boy is truly the splitting image of Sergio. “Cute and clumsy,” he murmurs, shaking his head and heading to the bar to get a drink. 

“Never a doubt, am I right?” Gerard asks him. He’s leaning against the bar and nursing a beer, staring out into the chaos. “Definitely his father’s son,” he continues, smiling after Marco. “I hope they padded the walls in there, or else the night is gonna end in tears. But then again, like I said, he’s Sergio’s son so…” He takes a sip. “Probably has a pretty hard head.”

Cristiano laughs. “Ah, you know how they are at this age. They’re all bound to end up with a few bumps. Never seems to stop them from anything, does it?” He reaches over and grabs a water, clinking it when Gerard holds it up expectantly. “To our sons, eh?” he toasts, the both of them drinking afterward. “Where are yours at, anyway?” he asks after he swallows.

Gerard grins at the mention of his boys. “Ah, didn’t travel with me,” he says ruefully. “Thought they might,” he continues, “especially since Leo was gonna be here and he would have helped out. But Shak convinced me it might be better for them to keep to their schedules. And a quick trip to Madrid is a lot harder than it sounds when you have two, you know.” He takes another sip and looks thoughtful. “Well, you probably don’t know. Plus Junior’s older now and that’s probably easier,” he says, thinking out loud.

Cristiano stops mid-sip, nearly choking and spilling half of his water down his shirt. “Wait, what?”

Gerard is unfazed. “Well, Milan is pretty good traveling now, but Sasha always has to have a window seat. Plus his traveling toys, and his traveling clothes, and I have no idea how he got to be such a little diva—,” Gerard prattles on until Cristiano interrupts him.

“No, no, idiot. I mean, Leo’s here? In Madrid?” Cristiano asks, half trying not to sound like an idiot himself. He reaches for a napkin and dabs at his wet shirt. It might be a lost cause, though. “He didn’t tell me he was coming.”

Gerard gives him a *look*. “First of all, wow, rude. Second of all, I didn’t know you guys were at that point yet, where he had to tell you all of his traveling plans.” He raises an eyebrow. “I mean, you guys had dinner a few times, right? It’s not like you’re exclusively dating, right?”

Cristiano swallows. “I—,” he says, all of a sudden rethinking things. Truthfully, they hadn’t had *the talk* or anything, but he had thought it was exclusive. He thought it was definitely something important, something that was being felt on both sides…

“And third of all,” Gerard says, arching an eyebrow when Cristiano doesn’t continue, “relax, okay? Not only is Leo in Madrid, but he’s here.”

Cristiano stares at him. “Wait, what?” he asks again, napkin clenched in his hand.

Gerard looks cocky all of a sudden. “Well, he had a sudden desire to come with me to this party. I can’t understand why, of course. No real reason for him to want to, right? Bunch of Madrid players, really. I guess he could catch up with a few people he hasn’t seen in awhile. But anyway, he’s here. In the house. Somewhere.” He gets a funny look on his face. “If you really knew him, you’d be able to find him.”

Cristiano immediately throws his napkin at Gerard and sets his water down not the bar. “That’s not fair!” he says, although in his head he’s making a list. Leo would want to avoid people, would want to stay away from most of the Madrid people… He’d want somewhere quiet, with maybe only a few people, and he wouldn’t want to dance, so he’d be away from the crowd and the music… Maybe in the kitchen? Cristiano shakes his head. Leo wouldn’t want to be in the way.

Gerard laughs as Cristiano starts to walk away. “Tell them I said hi!”

Cristiano ignores him, itching to find Leo now. He pulls out his phone, tempted to call and see if he could find Leo that way. But then Gerard’s words ring in his head, and he puts his phone back in his pocket. 

He knows Leo. He can find Leo.

Except, as he wanders around aimlessly, looking for darkened rooms and empty nooks, it turns out he can’t find Leo. Frustrated, he takes out his phone again, looking for somewhere quiet so that he’ll be able to hear if Leo answers. The door to the playroom is off a hallway to the side, and he avoids a beckoning Marcelo and makes a break for it, gently pulling the door behind him and sighing.

“Are you here to play, too?” a little voice asks.

Cristiano spins on his heel to take in the sight of Sergio Jr. sprawled out on his belly on the carpet, surrounded by what looks like a castle made out of legos. Well, it’s a castle or a large square shape that’s meant to be a castle.

Oh, and Leo’s there too.

Leo looks up at him sheepishly from where he is also sprawled out across the floor. “Hi,” he greets softly, hands frozen from where they were connecting a few plastic blocks together. He appears to have been at it for quite a while if the well-built section in front of him is his work and the perilous structure next to him is Sergio Jr.’s work. “It’s good to see you?” Leo asks, hesitating a bit when Cristiano keeps standing there.

Cristiano finally shakes his head, squatting down beside them. “I didn’t know you were going to be here,” he says, not meaning for it to be accusatory. 

Leo ducks his head slightly, biting his lip. “I didn’t know I’d be here either, but,” he says, “I heard you were coming later, and I thought I’d wait.” He gestures to the legos and sits up. “Sergio Jr. asked me to help him and Marco, so I thought—I thought I’d just stay here until you arrived.”

In his shock, Cristiano hadn’t even noticed Marco behind Leo. The toddler is dead to the world, flat on his back, with a stuffed bunny cuddled in his arms. “He didn’t last very long,” Cristiano says, gentling his tone. “I just saw him running around a little while ago.”

Leo smiles, looking back at the boy, running his hand gently through the blond hair. “You know how they are at this age,” he says, unknowingly echoing Cristiano’s words to Gerard. “Seem like they have endless energy, and then they just pass out wherever they feel like and sleep until morning.” He laughs lightly, drawing his hand back and handing over his remaining legos to Sergio Jr.

Sergio Jr. beams at him and goes back to sticking legos together.

Leo’s smile stays on his face and he looks up at Cristiano. “Should we have a drink?” he asks, tilting his head. He bites his lip again, this time like he’s trying to hide his excitement. “I feel like it’s been ages since we’ve talked.”

*****

Cristiano loses track of how long he talks to Leo.

They’d wandered out to the patio to escape the noise of the party, leisurely walking with through the backyard their wine until they’d found an empty pair of chairs just out of sight of the house. They’d kicked off their shoes and decided to sit for awhile, chairs a few feet apart and toes tickled by the grass. And Sergio had thoughtfully lit torches all along the paths, so Cristiano makes a mental note to thank him because it’s the first time he’s seen Leo in this light and he can barely contain himself.

Leo seems utterly content outside, and Cristiano is enchanted by how carefree he appears.

“It’s just where I like it best,” Leo confides to Cristiano, bare feet pulled up against his chest and arms wrapped around his knees. He looks small in the large chair. “I think, if I hadn’t played football, I would have wanted to do something outside.” He smiles, looking off into the distance, eyes drifting from side to side, studying the flowers along the paths. “Something with flowers, maybe. Or photography. Or maybe both of them combined.” He shakes his head. “Does that sound silly?”

Cristiano swallows a mouthful of his wine, heel quietly kicking against his chair leg. “Of course not,” he says, even now, imagining Leo kneeling on the grass and holding a camera. “You could still do something like that,” he ventures, already thinking of how to get Leo the best camera available, of how he might get private photography classes, or where the best places to go see wildflowers might be.

Leo turns back to him, the light flickering of his face and making his eyes appear as though they’re sparkling. “Maybe,” he agrees wistfully. 

But his smile is just so…

Cristiano’s not in control of his body as he stands up. His wine glass is in the grass by his feet and he nearly tips over what little wine remains. But it doesn’t matter. 

Who would have thought that their first kiss would be under the stars in Madrid?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (For anybody who is concerned, I am making good progress with the next chapter of OITNB.)


	4. Benjamin Suárez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the field, they manage to turn everything off. They're both competitive enough to focus on the actual game, as opposed to how they feel about playing against each other. They're also lucky enough to not really ever be in contact while they're out there. Which is probably a good thing, because now that they're off the pitch, Cristiano is starting to notice how good Leo looks: sweat-soaked hair plastered to his forehead, cheeks flushed red, blue underarmor painted on, shorts temptingly low on his hips...
> 
> Maybe it's a good thing that Cristiano is walking away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Messi baby number three on the way!!! How could I not update this story today haha :)

Cristiano always feels a rush when the final whistle blows. 

Maybe he should feel drained. But, win or lose, he’s always still thrumming with energy. El clásicos at Camp Nou are no exception. He’s not the only one who feels that way, of course, and sometimes getting through the hallway is a bit of a struggle after the game. Truthfully, he’s not exactly happy—a tie is nothing to celebrate—and yet, it’s not a loss, so there aren’t too many hard feelings as his teammates start to mix with the Barcelona players.

Gerard and Sergio are arguing but it’s half-hearted, more of their usual banter, both trying to talk over the other while Jordi Alba and Dani crowd around them and attempt to interject every so often. Busquets is there too, with Iniesta, just watching and waiting to see if things will get out of hand. They probably won’t, as there aren’t too many things for their teammates to complain about this time. The referee had been pretty good for once, and what few mistakes he’d made had been equally balanced on both sides, so it is what it is.

Cristiano sees Leo from across the tunnel, but they don't have time to really talk. Both of them are being dragged in opposite directions for interviews and photographs. 

Still, it's enough for Cristiano to see Leo. 

To make eye contact. 

To exchange smiles.

On the field, they manage to turn everything off. They're both competitive enough to focus on the actual game, as opposed to how they feel about playing against each other. They're also lucky enough to not really ever be in contact while they're out there. Which is probably a good thing, because now that they're off the pitch, Cristiano is starting to notice how good Leo looks: sweat-soaked hair plastered to his forehead, cheeks flushed red, blue underarmor painted on, shorts temptingly low on his hips...

Maybe it's a good thing that Cristiano is walking away from him. 

The interviews give him a chance to cool down, and nobody really questions if he’s shifting his feet or looking longingly in the other direction. They probably think he just wants to go and shower and stop answering all their questions. That’s correct, of course, just not the entire story. So he waits and waits, forces himself to forget about Leo for a little while as he speaks to reporters and poses for pictures. The press officer directs him here and there, and Cristiano goes willingly even if a little wearily. And when he’s finished, he lets out a sigh of relief.

He’s going to go shower.

And then he’s going to go find Leo.

For the sake of everyone in the locker room, he refuses to think about Leo as he’s showering. He lets the water pour over his head and mechanically goes through his routine, soaping up, shampooing, and rinsing off without a fuss. After that he towels off, letting the trainers look at his knee just as a precaution, and then he gets dressed. There’s chatter all around him, with a few of the guys talking about going somewhere to eat instead of staying at the hotel. Their flight back isn’t until the next day due to some scheduling thing, so they have a few options that wouldn’t normally have in Barcelona.

Cristiano wants to have dinner with Leo, though, so he makes some approving noises at the conversation, but doesn’t commit to anything. And when he’s dressed, he leaves his bag on the bench and slips out to go find Leo.

Except, finding Leo isn’t as easy as it sounds. 

Cristiano ventures toward Barcelona’s locker room only to hear that it’s completely empty. He doesn’t have to peek his head in and risk being seen because he overhears some of the cleaners who are apparently about to start washing the floor. Cristiano shrugs and starts to head back toward the pressroom where he last saw Leo. Yet, as he arrives, it becomes clear that only Luis Suárez is there, and that the other players have all been allowed to leave. 

Now, Cristiano is sure that Leo hasn’t left without at least telling him, so, after a quick look of the tunnel and the surrounding areas, he waves over Suárez. Leo’s teammate raises his eyebrows but excuses himself and heads over to the doorway.

“Hey,” Cristiano asks, running his fingers through his hair to make sure it’s drying the way he wants. “You seen Leo anywhere?”

Suárez raises a hand to his mouth and covers his smile. “Why?” he asks, though, Cristiano is pretty sure he’s just messing with him and knows perfectly well why Cristiano wants to see Leo. He’s proved right when Suárez giggles. “You got a hot date? What do you guys even talk about other than football? You’ve got like nothing in common.” 

Cristiano rolls his eyes. “Never mind,” he says, slightly embarrassed, but also slightly annoyed. He doesn’t feel like picking a fight—especially with one of Leo’s best friends. Most of Leo’s teammates have been supportive of their relationship—according to Leo, that is—but Cristiano knows there are some who still disapprove. He turns to leave, thinking that he’ll just go get his phone and call Leo.

“Hey!” Suárez shouts after him, jogging over to catch up with him. “I just meant,” Suárez says, toothy smile on display, “never mind.” He tilts his head. “I was just kidding around. I know you guys are good together. Leo likes you. Really likes you. Talks about you a lot. A little too much actually. I can't blame him though, he would say the same about me and Sofi,” he says as Cristiano tries not to preen at the idea of Leo talking about him. “You must not have looked very hard, though,” Suárez says then, expression changing and not looking very impressed. "I mean..."

Despite feeling a little flattered about being in Leo's thoughts so much, Cristiano isn’t really in the mood to keep chit-chatting with Suárez—especially now that his adrenaline is wearing off and his aches are starting to make themselves known. “Do you know where he is, or not?”

Suárez’s smile reappears. “Of course.” He tilts his head for Cristiano to follow him, walking back the way they came and heading down into the tunnel. He starts humming Barcelona’s fight song under his breath, tapping his hands on the walls every few steps.

“I already looked down here,” Cristiano mutters dubiously, but he follows, hand sliding down the railing as he goes down the steps. Somehow Suárez is full of energy, taking the steps two at a time, practically skipping. But Cristiano takes his time.

And then he hears Leo.

He can hear him, no, not him, *them,* before he sees them.

Cristiano follows Suárez up to the pitch, shading his eyes from the bright lights on the side and peering across at the two figures running around. Leo is as recognizable as always—still looking like he did the last time Cristiano caught a glimpse of him, though he's now lost his socks and boots.

It truly is a beautiful sight, and Cristiano forgets his pains and his annoyance at the same time. Leo's running around barefoot on the grass at Camp Nou, a ball at his feet, and he's laughing wildly as a screaming little boy in an oversized Barcelona kit chases after him. The kid has no chance. And Cristiano holds back a laugh as Leo abruptly drops a shoulder and fakes left, twisting his hips and turning to the right instead. 

Suárez slaps Cristiano's shoulder. "And you like this guy, huh?" he asks, grinning as the little boy falls off balance and tumbles to the ground at Leo's unexpected move. Then Suárez cups his hands around his mouth and hollers, "Almost got him that time, Benja!"

Leo starts dribbling in their direction, slowing down slightly as Benja--Benjamin Suárez, Cristiano now knows--gets to his feet and starts chasing him again. Leo teasingly waits until the boy is right on his heels before speeding up, and the two of them race over to the sideline and skid to a stop right before Cristiano. Benja shrieks in excitement when he notices his father, hugging his leg in excitement and prattling on about how they were practicing shooting and he scored a goal against Leo on the very first try.

Cristiano raises an eyebrow at Leo.

Leo grins and shrugs, wiping his brow with his fingers and then tugging up the bottom of his underarmor to dry his forehead. "What can I say? I'm not a keeper." 

Cristiano's eyes go to the skin revealed at Leo's waist. "Can't be good at everything," he murmurs, his mouth suddenly going dry. "You haven't showered," he says, trying to focus. He looks down at Leo's bare feet, skimming over the pale ankles and shapely calves. "Thought we could get dinner." He's desperately trying not to look at Leo's thighs when Leo clears his throat.

Cristiano jerks his head up.

Leo looks amused, but then he flicks his eyes to the side. Suárez and his son aren't paying any attention, and so Leo wiggles forward and kisses Cristiano lightly. His fingers curl into Cristiano's belt, and he leans against Cristiano's hip. "I thought," Leo murmurs, eyes going dark as they return to find Cristiano's, "that maybe you'd want to come back to mine." 

Cristiano takes a deep breath, hand sliding around to rest on the small of Leo's back. The underarmor is wet with sweat and he can feel how hot Leo's skin is beneath it. But most of all, he's utterly aware of what would happen if his fingers move an inch downwards. "Oh?"

*****

Cristiano's seen pictures of Leo's place, but he's never actually been there in person. Everywhere he looks, he discovers a little more about what Leo likes. The comfy couch is piled high with soft pillows and fleecy blankets, some matching and some not--a few so worn that Cristiano can't even see the patterns anymore. There are pictures everywhere, of family and friends and places that Cristiano's never been. He takes his time to look at them, aware of the way Leo's hovering behind him as he does.

Cristiano tries to hide his smile.

Finally, he turns around. "Did you want to shower? I can probably put something together with whatever I find in your kitchen," Cristiano says, trying to put him at ease. "What are you in the mood for?" he asks, thinking about doing something easy like chicken and vegetables. Leo’s bound to have something like that in the fridge. 

Leo strips off his underarmor, dropping it carelessly on the floor. He licks his lips as the blue material puddles around his feet. "Why don't we forget about dinner," he whispers, thumbs sliding to rest the waistband of his shorts. "And why don't I give you a tour?" His eyes are dark again, and his breathing hitches as Cristiano takes a step closer to him.

"In the mood for something else, are you?" Cristiano asks, hands finding Leo's hips. This time he does what he wants, and gently drops a hand to palm Leo's ass. Leo's curves feel gorgeous and Cristiano grins as he bends down to kiss him. Leo's mouth is hot and wet and sweet, and Cristiano wants more. “You know what?” he adds when they break apart for air, “I wouldn't mind a tour of the bedroom.”


	5. Sasha Piqué

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though, of course, it’s not the first time he’s been invited to one of these gatherings. It’s at Gerard’s house today. There have been many, by now, the players all taking turns at hosting (and Mascherano always, always cooks), but the people are always the same. It’s a small group—the inner core of Barcelona, perhaps. And Cristiano is growing to feel more comfortable with every moment he spends with them. Suárez and Sofi, Mascherano and Fernanda, Gerard and Shakira, Iniesta and Anna, Busquets and Elena… 
> 
> And all their kids. 
> 
> Not that Cristiano has ever had an issue with the kids. 
> 
> Except maybe Milan Piqué. 
> 
> Poor guy’s had it out for Cristiano ever since he started dating Leo. Tonight was no exception. Cristiano had smiled and waved and held his hand out for a high five, but Milan had growled and shouted, “Visça Barça!” before running away in a fit of giggles with Benjamin Suárez and Paolo Iniesta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overdue to post this. Also, I owe so many comments on other stories, I'm sorry I haven't gotten to them!!!

“You want a veggie burger or a regular burger, or both?” Mascherano asks, pointing his lifter at Cristiano. It’s almost a threatening gesture. He’s not smiling, and his tone doesn’t seem friendly, but Cristiano has learned by now that this is just Mascherano’s way. 

Plus he’s wearing a flowery pink apron and nobody can look scary wearing something like that.

The fact that there are even veggie burgers there means that he’s planned for Cristiano’s attendance anyways.

“Both? Please?” Cristiano replies, receiving a nod in return as the chef returns his focus to the food. There are a ton of burgers all laid on on platters, ready to be added to the grill once they’ve been seasoned and prepared to Mascherano’s satisfaction. Cristiano’s eyeing them hungrily, along with the numerous veggies to the side. He can see peppers and zucchini and corn—basically, everything that he’s come to expect from these barbecues. And if he peeks to the side, he can see what looks like the ingredients for s’mores for later.

(For the kids, of course…)

To avoid thinking about food anymore, he walks across the backyard over to one of the giant coolers and scoops out a water. As he takes a sip, ignoring the way some of the water drips down his hand, he stares out across the yard. Truthfully there aren’t that many people here. It’s just a few of the Barcelona players and their families, and that alone makes Cristiano feel included. 

Though, of course, it’s not the first time he’s been invited to one of these gatherings. It’s at Gerard’s house today. There have been many, by now, the players all taking turns at hosting (and Mascherano always, always cooks), but the people are always the same. It’s a small group—the inner core of Barcelona, perhaps. And Cristiano is growing to feel more comfortable with every moment he spends with them. Suárez and Sofi, Mascherano and Fernanda, Gerard and Shakira, Iniesta and Anna, Busquets and Elena… 

And all their kids. 

Not that Cristiano has ever had an issue with the kids. 

Except maybe Milan Piqué. 

Poor guy’s had it out for Cristiano ever since he started dating Leo. Tonight was no exception. Cristiano had smiled and waved and held his hand out for a high five, but Milan had growled and shouted, “Visça Barça!” before running away in a fit of giggles with Benjamin Suárez and Paolo Iniesta.

Shakira had sighed from where she was holding Sasha’s hand. “Don’t know where he learned that,” she said, rolling her eyes and looking accusingly in Gerard’s direction.

Gerard had simply thrown his head back and laughed, putting his hands on his hips and then up in front of him as he tried to proclaim his innocence. Cristiano had wanted to say that he looked like one of those dumb Sim characters, but he’d bit his tongue and tried to remain polite. Shakira had sighed again, leaving Sasha with Cristiano and pulling Gerard over to the side to give him a scolding. 

So, nothing new there.

Sasha had grinned up at Cristiano, latching onto his jeans with grubby fingers. “Hi!” He’d blinked rapidly up at Cristiano, trying to see him despite the bright sunlight in his eyes. “Hi, Cristiano!”

Cristiano had laughed, squatting down instantly so Sasha didn’t have to strain his eyes. “Hi, Sasha!” He’d held his hand out again, for another high five, and Sasha had immediately slapped his hand with glee. “Great job, buddy,” Cristiano had said approvingly, running his fingers through Sasha’s silky hair. “Now, if only your brother would come around, huh?”

Sasha had just smiled, but it was clear he didn’t really understand. “Okay, bye!” he’d replied, patting Cristiano’s knee, before toddling off through the grass back to his mother.

“Can’t win them all,” Cristiano had muttered, getting to his feet again. But he’d had to smile as little Enzo Busquets waved in his direction. “Now, you,” Cristiano had said, going over to ruffle some of the boy’s dark hair, “I like you.”

That had been awhile ago, and he’d certainly had no problem carrying Enzo around while Elena went to chat with Anna. Then at some point, Anna had captured Paolo and dumped him into Cristiano’s arms as well. “Keep him under control. Just for a little bit,” Anna had said, smiling, and who was Cristiano to refuse. “Surely your other half can help you out?”

Cristiano had easily shuffled the two wiggling bodies to perch on either side of his hips. “Done,” he’d promised. “But speaking of…” he had said, looking around. “Where is he?”

“Around somewhere, the usual, probably,” Anna had said, not looking bothered. “You’ll find him.”

Cristiano had done a quick scan of the yard and he had not found him.

That was ten minutes ago. 

It’s getting a bit ridiculous now.

There’s a small pickup football game going on in the back corner, with Milan and Benjamin and Delfi and their fathers, but Leo’s not there. Perhaps he should be, with the way Gerard is trying to lord his goal-scoring abilities over everyone else. Suárez just keeps laughing and laughing from where he’s trying to be a goalkeeper, and Iniesta seems to have given up on even attempting to control Gerard anymore and has moved on to showing Delfi the best way to dribble. Busquets is sitting in the grass beside them all, holding a beer and apparently enjoying the show.

Mascherano’s at the grill, surrounded by his family with his girls begging for food like he never feeds them. Bruno’s not so much begging as he is crying while Fernanda arches her eyebrows at Mascherano and mentions something about a dirty diaper.

Cristiano quickly skips past there. Just in case. He’s got his hands full, but he has a feeling that Mascherano would point him out to save himself. And Cristiano has no interest in changing any diapers, thank you very much.

He heads back toward the part of the yard closest to the house. The ladies are relaxing there before dinner, trying to find some quiet time away from the boys. Shakira is pouring some wine for Sofi, Elena, and Anna. Valeria is there, too, clinging to her mother shyly as she listens to the conversation. 

But Leo isn’t with them.

Cristiano hoists Enzo and Paolo higher in frustration. “Where is he? Where is Leo?” he asks himself. 

The boys perk up. “Leo?” Enzo asks. “Leo?” He and Paolo start looking around for Leo anxiously. It's no longer a surprise to Cristiano that the kids love Leo, and he struggles to hold them as they wiggle and turn their heads this way and that.

“He’s gotta be around here somewhere,” Cristiano says, wondering what he’s missed. He’s mentally counting kids when Shakira lifts her head and sees him standing in the middle of the yard like an idiot.

“Do you need something, Cristiano?” Shakira asks, taking a sip of her wine. She flicks her eyes around the yard and knowledge dawns on her. “Ah,” she says smiling, “they’re up on the deck.” She points her glass behind them. “A little quieter, I think.”

Cristiano nods thankfully, and he must look pretty pitiful because she laughs. “Here, why don’t you give us those, and you can go sit up there,” Shakira says, setting her wine down and gesturing for him to put the boys down at their feet.

“Thank you,” Cristiano says gratefully, depositing the giggling kids down on the grass and heading for the deck.

And just as she had predicted. They’re there. Leo and Sasha.

Leo’s stretched out on one of the deck chairs with Sasha on his lap. At first, Cristiano thinks they’re napping, but as he gets closer, he can see that Leo’s reading to Sasha. And as he approaches, he realizes that Leo’s reading in what he thinks is Catalan. He’s not sure he knew that Leo knew that much Catalan, but he’s charmed by the way the words roll off Leo’s tongue. Sasha is enthralled, little fingers touching the pages as Leo reads, a smile appearing on his face as he listens.

Cristiano doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so adorable.

*****

That night, after they get back to Leo’s place and fall into bed, Cristiano turns on his side. “I had a good time tonight,” he says, finding Leo’s hand in the darkness. “I’m glad we went.”

Leo laughs, moving over so he can cuddle against Cristiano’s body. “I had a good time, too,” he says, pulling the sheets up a little higher. “The perfect ending to the weekend, hmm? And those s’mores were so good. Not on my diet, but I’ll run a bit extra tomorrow.” He presses his face against Cristiano’s chest. “Don’t tell the mister, eh?”

Cristiano smiles, resting his lips on top of Leo’s hair. “I don’t know,” he teases, breathing in the smell of Leo’s shampoo. “What will you give me? What’s my silence worth?” He’s thinking about making Leo wear a Madrid jersey or going on a shopping trip for new clothes… 

Those jean shorts need to disappear as soon as possible.

Leo’s laugh is muffled into Cristiano’s t-shirt. “I don’t know,” he whispers, pulling his head out to meet Cristiano’s gaze. “What do you want?” His eyes are laughing, cheeks pink with happiness. 

And Cristiano forgets what he was going to say. His mouth goes dry, his hand squeezes Leo’s, and he can’t breathe.

“I just want you. All of you,” Cristiano says.

Leo stares at him fondly. “You have me,” he says simply. “All of me,” he promises, when Cristiano remains silent.

The truth is, it takes some time for Cristiano to find his words again. Because he needs to gather his courage, and every second helps. Finally, he takes a deep breath. “I love you,” he whispers. His voice is quivering, but his sincerity shines through. “I love you, Leo.”

Leo’s answer comes immediately, in a whisper just like Cristiano’s. “I love you too, Cristiano,” he says, his smile growing bigger than Cristiano’s ever seen it. 

Cristiano wants to spend the rest of his life with this man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! One more part :) xo


	6. And One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cristiano wakes up in the middle of the night. 
> 
> He yawns, blinking and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. Even before he looks next to him, it's immediately obvious from the silence that the bed is empty. He's not worried and stretches an arm out, feeling that the sheets are still warm. They’re not, and he winces. He debates as to whether he should get up or not, but in the end, he sits up. It’s only fair that he helps out. 
> 
> He knows where Leo is, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had no time to write so nothing else is ready to be updated. You might have wondered why I didn't post this all at once if it was finished, and this is the reason why. I try to have some kind of update ready for my fics every two weeks and realized I should save some of these chapters because of my tight upcoming schedule. I hope you all understand. Thanks for coming this far. xo

Cristiano wakes up in the middle of the night. 

He yawns, blinking and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. Even before he looks next to him, it's immediately obvious from the silence that the bed is empty. He's not worried and stretches an arm out, feeling that the sheets are still warm. They’re not, and he winces. He debates as to whether he should get up or not, but in the end, he sits up. It’s only fair that he helps out. 

He knows where Leo is, after all. 

So he slides out of bed, letting his bare toes dig into the rug and then quietly walks down the hallway.

He passes Junior’s door on the way. It’s closed, but Cristiano stops anyway. He cracks it open a bit to look at his sleeping son. As he thought, the boy’s turned away from the door and sound asleep. The sheets are pulled up around his shoulders, and his dark hair is just visible from the glow of the nightlight. Cristiano smiles to see the face of Junior’s teddy bear peeking out just a touch from the nest of blankets. It’s all as it should be, just as Cristiano had left them when he tucked him in. 

Cristiano gently closes the door again and continues on, padding down the hallway while yawning quietly.

The last door on the right is ajar as expected, and when he peers in, he can see that Leo's sitting in the large rocking chair in the corner—just as he has every night for the last week. Cris stands in the doorway and watches for a minute, loathe to make a sound to disturb him. The nursery lights are off, but Cristiano can still see the way Leo’s hands are cradled securely around the baby. 

He half wishes he had his camera to capture the moment, though he’s sure Leo wouldn’t enjoy the picture as much as he does.

They’re both asleep.

The baby’s asleep, worn out from crying, and Leo’s asleep, worn out from trying to comfort her. There’s a big wet patch on his shoulder from her drooling, no doubt an attempt by Leo to stifle her cries from her teething. It was probably an arduous process to get her to relax. But she looks peaceful in her sleep, fingers clutching Leo’s shirt while her other fist is gripping Leo’s thumb like a lifeline. 

Cristiano doesn’t mean to, but he brushes against the door and it creaks. The baby’s eyes flutter open and Cristiano immediately freezes, wanting to kick himself. He knows it must have taken ages for Leo to lull her to calm her down. But she squirms and Cristiano knows it’s too late as she snuffles and begins to wake up. Her fingers release Leo’s shirt to rub at her nose, face scrunching up while she blearily looks around. 

And then she sees Leo, and her little face blossoms into a smile. Her hand clenches into Leo’s shirt again, and she smacks her lips, tongue flicking out as is her habit with the new tooth coming in. But she doesn’t do anything more than that, staring up at Leo in awe, cooing slightly.

Cristiano feels like his heart might burst. 

Especially when she puts her head down on Leo’s chest like she’s perfectly comfortable and ready to go back to sleep again. Her body wiggles slightly, and as she blinks slowly, she finally catches sight of Cristiano in the doorway. Still, she’s happy to remain where she is, safely held in Leo’s arms, and she coos quietly again as her eyes fall shut.

Cristiano’s debating on whether or not he should try to wake Leo—it can’t be good for his back to sleep in that chair—but in the end, it doesn’t matter, because her gurgles make Leo’s eyes fly open.

Leo’s grip automatically tightens on the baby’s bottom, other hand sliding to her back and rubbing gently. He squeezes his eyes shut a few times, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. And then he tilts his head to the side and stretches his neck. As he does so, his gaze finds Cristiano and he smiles wearily. “Asleep?” Leo whispers, unable to see her face from the angle. 

“Almost,” Cristiano whispers back, placing a finger against his lips as he watches her lashes flutter. “Maybe wait a few minutes and try the crib.”

Leo nods, carefully resting his mouth on top of her head, just brushing her hair. He inhales softly, eyes still on Cristiano’s. “She was fussing and it woke me,” he whispers when he lifts his head. “Thought maybe she’d sleep better if I was holding her… I hate when she’s going through these rough patches. I wish I could do more for her.” He hugs her and starts to rock in the chair, humming quietly as the soothing motion puts the drowsy baby to sleep.

Cristiano watches in silence, holding his breath as Leo finally rises from the chair and returns her to the crib. Only then does Cristiano go to his side and put his arm around Leo’s waist. Leo turns into him, one hand resting flat on the baby’s chest, just feeling her breathe. The humming continues quietly, but she doesn’t stir and Cristiano lets out a sigh of relief.

“Come back to bed,” Cristiano murmurs. “Get some sleep, and I’ll get her next time.” He reaches down to smooth down her leg, unable to keep himself from touching the soft skin. Her little yellow sock has fallen off, leaving her foot bare and Cristiano strokes over the sole before carefully touching her toes. “Maybe she’ll sleep through the night, eh?” he asks, replacing the sock with care.

Leo has to stifle his laughter in Cristiano’s shoulder.

*****

She doesn’t sleep through the night, but it’s okay because Leo lets Cristiano sleep in the next morning.

This time, it’s the smell of coffee and pancakes that drag him from the empty bed. Cristiano scratches his stomach and yawns, trudging downstairs after first making sure both children’s rooms are empty. He hears laughter coming from the kitchen too, and the sound immediately brightens his mood.

Leo’s bouncing around with the baby, hovering in front of the stove while Junior pours the batter down onto a sizzling pan. “Great job!” Leo praises, ruffling Junior’s hair with a floury hand before picking up the spatula. “Want any blueberries in this one?” he asks Junior, gesturing toward the bowl on the counter.

Junior’s still dressed in his Batman pajamas and nods enthusiastically as he grabs a handful of berries. He gives Leo a calculated look. “Can I have blueberries and chocolate chips in this one?” he asks as he widens his eyes and reaches for a second bowl full of chocolate. 

When Leo laughs, the baby laughs, and Cristiano stops again in the doorway to watch them. Leo’s still in his nightclothes too, wearing one of Cristiano’s old Manchester United t-shirts and a pair of ratty old shorts that are a little too high on the thigh. But Leo’s never been one to care about his clothing, as evidenced by the fresh stain of morning spit-up on the sleeve. 

“Just this once,” Leo replies, winking, flipping the pancake and tilting his head back to the stove. “Come on, then,” he says happily, letting Junior get back in front of them with the second bowl. “Are you going to be as a good a cook as your brother when you grow up?” Leo asks the baby, kissing her on the cheek.

All of a sudden, Cristiano feels faint. He clutches the doorway, hand slapping against the wood.

Leo looks over his shoulder at the noise. “Oh, good,” he says, not noticing Cristiano’s distress and turning back to supervise Junior. “Daddy’s here,” he continues, “so we need to make him some breakfast. Next few should be plain, okay Junior?”

Cristiano just stares. “Will you marry me?” he blurts out.

Leo drops the spatula on the floor and spins around. “What?” he asks, completely shocked. Behind him the batter is sizzling, and Junior is looking worriedly from the spatula on the ground to the stove. “What did you just say?” The baby starts chewing on Leo's clean sleeve, gnawing contently on the fabric while Leo gapes at Cristiano.

And Cristiano had always thought that when he’d proposed he’d do it in some ridiculous way. He’d thought of doing it on the top of a mountain, of hiring a full orchestra to play romantic music outside their bedroom window, of renting a hot air balloon to fly over the ocean… There would be flowers everywhere, and Cristiano would be wearing a suit, and he’d be on his knee and holding the ring out in front of him.

The ring that’s been hidden upstairs in Cristiano’s underwear drawer for months.

But seeing Leo like this, holding their daughter, hugging Junior, wearing those raggedy shorts, making pancakes with spit-up down his shirt…

Cristiano’s never loved Leo more. 

"Will you marry me?" Cristiano repeats, this time a little clearer. "I want to marry you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want anything and everything with you--" he says, his mouth running away from him and this proposal nowhere close to the one he's practiced over and over in his mind. Junior is staring at him in disbelief, and the baby is cooing, but Leo's smile is growing wider and Cristiano can't breathe again.

"Yes," Leo says then, cutting Cristiano off. "Yes," he says again, nodding frantically and handing the baby to Junior so he can run to Cristiano. He practically throws himself at Cristiano, nearly knocking them both to the floor. "I want that," Leo says against Cristiano's neck, hugging him with all his might. "I want it all. I want to marry you.“

And then they're both laughing and crying and Cristiano can breathe again as he smooths back Leo's hair and gently kisses him. Junior is there then, too, still carrying his sister, and their hug becomes a family hug as they all celebrate.

The pancakes burn, but nobody really minds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure people enjoyed this fic as much as my usual stuff, but anyone who knows me knows that I have a soft spot for Leo with kids lol. So maybe this fic was more for me than anyone else. Still, hope you all liked. xo

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed :)


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